


Fractured Memories

by Willow_River



Category: Thrilling Intent (Web Series)
Genre: Adventure, Alaran, Gen, Nine Shrines, Shrouded Isles, Thief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_River/pseuds/Willow_River
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maggie is hungry thief who can barely remember who she is some days. All she thinks she wants is to be able to make her daily quota so she can eat, but everything gets flipped on its head when the Nine Shrines adventuring group run into her (or rather, she runs into them). As her memories slowly return to her, Maggie must juggle between making sense of her old life and working through old hurts in this new one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fountains of Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is hard for the destitute in Alaran. Maggie is desperate and living a life she'd rather not live. Is there any hope?

Morning. Another day, another kick in the rear. Nothing new for Maggie. Just wake up and try to get into the streets before something else hit her.

A patchy brown cloak melted into the crowded market throngs. Several pockets were lightened, and several more purses cut. The girl paused in an alley to count her spoils. Petty change, all of it. That amount may have been a decent haul for others, but it came to barely a fraction of what she needed. There had to be a faster way.

Maggie's gaze shifted to the grand fountain in the town square. People often tossed in coins to wish for good fortune. Even now, rich merchants made their daily prayers to whatever god of wealth they thought blessed them. Throwing away money in hopes of receiving more. Such a ridiculous concept. 

Fortuitous for the bold, however.

As with every day of sparse pickings, Maggie had to consider whether or not it was worth the risk to try and loot the thing. Normally, the answer would be a resounding "Hells, no!", but Maggie was desperate. She hadn't had a proper meal in almost a week and her usual collection of bruises and cuts had grown in number. She’d start to shut down on herself if she went on like this.

Whether it was poor decision-making due to lack of nutrients, or just sheer desperation, today, she decided to go for it.

Several guards stood at their posts around the square, all within eyeshot of the fountain. A distraction was all she'd need. Fortunately for her, a clumsy young thief-boy toppled a crate of apples in his ill-fated attempt at swiping some fruit. Most of the guards took off after him and his mates, who'd run up to help him get away. Only a few now remained.

With a deep breath, Maggie tugged her sleeves further over her wrists and stepped back into the square. She kept calm as best she could while she moved through the groups of people, slowly making her way towards the fountain. Closer. Just a little closer.

There she stood by the fountain, a group of small children running around her legs and throwing copper pieces into the sparkling water. They soon moved on and Maggie stood there alone. She stared into the pool. Her eyes gleamed at the sight of all the coins. So many valuable coins.

Maggie didn't even glance at the nearest guard before reaching her hand into the water. Big mistake.

"Hey, you! Stop!" The man's shout jolted Maggie. She looked over just in time to see the guard closing in on her.

Run! Her legs responded automatically and she took off. Maggie weaved her way around the people, adrenaline fueling her retreat. But it didn't last long. Suddenly, black spots clouded her vision. It was only for a moment, but long enough for her to run straight into someone.

Maggie tumbled backwards in a heap, rubbing her head as she sat up and tried to straighten her senses again. "Ow," she moaned.

There were voices, jumbled to Maggie in her current state. Then, as her vision cleared a bit, one voice pierced the fog.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The voice belonged to a young man dressed in red, either in his late teens or early twenties, with pleasantly brown hair and matching eyes. He had a hand offered to her, as if to help her up, but it was quickly rescinded as the guard caught up to her.

"Ah hah!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "Thought you could steal from the fountain, did you? Filthy little thief."

The man hauled Maggie up by the collar until her feet were dangling off the ground. She tugged down on her hood as it threatened to fall back. A whimper escaped her as all her bruises protested the rough handling.

Before anything could be said, another guard joined the first and they each grabbed one of the girl's arms to drag her away. She kicked and struggled, fighting to get away, when a third guard came up to them and jabbed his knee into her ribs. Maggie doubled over with a grunt and her hood was thrown clean off her head to reveal long red locks of hair and hazel eyes. Beneath her tangled bangs, a pair of deep blue circlet tattoos could be seen on her forehead, with a black claw sitting over the lower one. 

A woman gasped. Everyone had seen the mark. They all knew what it was.

"No way. She's one of Donavan's thieves," one guard astonished, his grip on the girl's arm loosening for a moment.

Maggie was quick to take advantage of this. She wrenched her arm away, an arc of fire briefly following just after her hand. The other guard simply dropped her other arm in his surprise and Maggie darted through a gap in the growing crowd, towards the safety of the alleys.

The crowd's whispers rose to outcries and insults, and more than a few shouts of “My wallet’s gone!”

 

Later that evening, Maggie slumped against a wall. She hadn't had much better luck in her endeavors since the morning, and she felt so exhausted, not to mention her stomach gnawing on the back of her spine. She only had a few hours to get her quota, or she would be going without food yet again. She had to rob more wealthy slobs, but she just didn't have the energy to get up.

"Hey, are you alright?" A strange voice asked.

Maggie looked up to regard the speaker. It was a young woman with white hair and bright amber eyes. Maggie recognized her as someone who was beside the young man she'd run into that morning. The woman was holding a cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms.

"Who are you?" Maggie managed to ask.

"Don’t worry, I’m like you,” the woman said, gesturing to the blue tattoos circling her upper arms. “To be honest, I thought I was the only one to ever leave, but it’s kind of nice to see that I’m not alone. What village did you come from? What sort of spirit do you have that lets you create fire? How long ago did you leave?"

Maggie just looked up at the woman in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…. I… I can’t remember…. I don’t know you.” She started to back away. These were strange questions, and Maggie wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with them.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry. I guess this is a lot at once.... Look, you seem hungry. If you like, we can talk after you have something to eat. Sound good?”

The woman took a roll of bread from the bundle and offered it to Maggie. The redhead blinked a few times, stare shifting between the woman's face and the food. Her eyes did not betray any malice, but nothing was ever given for free. Not in Alaran.

With tentative hands, Maggie reached out for the bread. Just as she was about to take it, however, a blonde-haired man with a pair of red horns sprouting from his forehead appeared from around the corner. Maggie’s eyes went wide.

"There you are, Ashe. What are you doing over here?” His attention shifted to Maggie. “Oh, isn't that the girl from the market this morning?"

Run. Without a word, Maggie snatched the bread from the woman's hands and darted away. At least now she could have something to eat.


	2. Bad Luck, I Suppose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we see the consequences of Maggie's failure. It's dangerous to be on the streets at night, so how will she fare?

"You're the most useless f****** pick-pocket I've ever seen," the thief-master shouted. 

Maggie covered her head reflexively just as a small collection of paperweights pelted her. "You make my quotas too high, Master Donavan," she protested. "No one else has to collect so much for you."

"I don’t want to hear any of your backtalk! Unless you don’t want your precious trinkets back," the fat man retorted, gesturing to a wooden bow hanging on the wall behind him. Maggie went stiff. "And don't think for a second that I didn't hear about that s*** you caused at the square today. I told you, one more slip-up and you sleep in the streets. Well, you're f****** out of chances."

Maggie panicked. "No, don’t throw me out! Please! I'll break into manors and steal things if I have to, just please don't throw me out!"

"Your chances are up, Maggot! If you can't even pick the right godd***** pockets, then you've no right to sleep under my roof. Perhaps a night in the rain will get that through your thick little skull. Malon, get her out of my sight!" A big man walked into the room and scooped Maggie up like a sack of flour. “Oh, and feel free to rough her up a little bit. This little b**** needs to learn to stop barking.”

Maggie screamed and struggled, but to no avail. To Malon, she was little more than a sack of feathers.

 

Night on the streets was dangerous away from the lamps, but for Maggie it was worse where there was light. Guards patrolled those areas. If she was caught, especially after the incident earlier that day, she’d surely be arrested on the spot. As much as she hated how miserable her life was, she wasn’t keen on a rope necklace to end it all. Just the thought of it made her feel sick.

That being said, the dark alleys were only a marginally safer option. 

While there was no danger of capture by the lawmen, the less than savoury sorts tended to frequent the lawless quarters. Thieves and beggars were the most common, though those types tended to leave waifs like Maggie alone. No, the real problems were the sick thugs that looked for any easy prey to help ease their bloody desires, and the hunters who prowled the streets for young women foolish enough to be out past sundown.

Maggie kept to herself; she was smart enough to do that much. There was a noticeable limp as she walked, having received a swift kick to her ankle just before Malon had shut the door on her. 

Sleeping right outside the thieves’ guild would be beyond foolish. Troublemakers flocked to its vicinity after dark in hopes of finding some poor out of favour thief to take out their frustrations on. Instead, Maggie tried to put as much distance between it and herself as she could manage before collapsing against a wall in a relatively dry alley. It was raining, and she was tired. 

She didn’t know how long she’d slept, only that it wasn’t long enough, when she was suddenly roused by the sound of a woman shouting. It was cut off suddenly as, Maggie assumed, the woman was knocked unconscious. She could hear men talking loudly to each other, some voices fading and others growing closer. 

It wasn’t safe to be there. Maggie hauled herself to her feet and started shuffling away when one man rounded a corner and spotted her.

“Oy, ‘ere’s another one!”

Maggie broke into a dead run. She ignored the fatigue and the pain as she tried desperately to escape her pursuers, their footsteps loud on the wet cobbles. Around corners and across streets she ran as the thugs slowly gained ground on her. Her stamina was fading quickly, despite the adrenaline rush, and once again dark spots began to cloud her vision.

In her desperate bid to get away, Maggie made a wrong turn. The moment she realized she had entered a blind alley, she tried to double-back only for her foot to slide on the slick paving stones beneath her feet. Everything seemed to hang in the air for an instant before she hit the ground hard. Her already sore ankle was now definitely sprained, she quickly found out as she tried to scramble back to her feet. 

The men converged on the alley, wet with rain and looking rather ferocious. Some looked annoyed at having to run so much, while others looked excited. Maggie dared not wonder why. 

One of the men went up to her and grabbed her hard by the arm, upsetting one of her bruises and causing her to cry out in pain as he hauled her up.

“Help,” Maggie whimpered as tears began to form in her eyes. Then, just beyond the thugs, she saw a figure at the end of the alley. “Help me, please!” she cried, reaching out in desperation.

The figure rushed forward just as two taller ones joined it. He -- Maggie was certain he was a man as he came closer -- wielded a strange spear-like weapon and swung it at the thug nearest him. She wanted to watch, but the black spots were returning, along with an acute tunnel vision. The thug holding her threw her to the ground as he joined the fray. The last thing she saw before passing out was one of the other figures joining the first in his assault, while the tallest of the group sent forth some sort of dark energy.

Everything faded into murky blackness.


	3. New Friends...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in a strange bed... To be fair, there are worse places to wake up, especially considering the situation. At least this one comes with a free healing service.

Maggie woke suddenly to the feeling of electricity running through her veins. She let out a choked noise and jolted forward only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“Woah! Careful,” a vaguely familiar voice tried to calm her down.

Maggie was suddenly aware that she was in an unfamiliar room and on an unfamiliar bed. Strangely enough, she wasn’t in pain anymore, but that was one of the farthest things from her mind. Her head whipped around in panic, eyes settling on the white-haired woman from the other day. 

“W-wha-?” Maggie stuttered. “How? Uwah!” She found herself suddenly on the floor. She hadn’t realized she was slowly scuttling backwards.

“You… Are you okay?” the woman sighed. She stood up and walked over to Maggie, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. Maggie was surprised when her ankle didn’t protest. “Wow, you’re almost lighter than Markus… I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Wh- You…? Where am I?” Maggie sat herself back on the edge of the bed. Confused and uneasy were her top two feelings then. She figured she might as well deal with her confusion first, then decide whether or not the second feeling was still an issue.

“You’re in my room at the Empty Pocket Inn. We, my friends and I, found you in that alley last night when those street thugs were after you. Do you remember?”

Maggie pondered for a moment. Slowly, that final memory returned to her, hazy, but there. She nodded.

The woman smiled a bit. “Sorry you had to wake up like this. We would have taken you back home, but-”

“NO!” Maggie shouted suddenly, and shrunk back against the headboard. Realizing how loud she was, her voice became very small. “No, please. I really don’t want to go back there… Not yet.” She tugged one of her sleeves absentmindedly. 

The white-haired woman cocked her head slightly, then pulled up a chair to sit across from the redhead. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’ve been meaning to ask you what all that was with the guards yesterday. They called you a thief, but you don’t really seem like the sort of person who’d cut purses for fun.”

Maggie looked down at the bedsheets, holding her arms as if to ward off a chill. “I… It’s not something I can really talk about.”

“Because of that tattoo, right?” The woman’s eyes lock onto the black claw for a moment. Maggie nodded. “Can’t even talk about the thing itself?” Maggie shook her head. “I figured as much. After I ran into you the other day, well, I asked around. I’ll tell you what I’ve found out, if you like. And you can tell me what I get wrong, alright?”

Maggie looked up at the woman. “Okay. That might work.”

“Well, here goes,” the woman took a deep breath. “That black claw tattoo is the mark of a thieving guild run by some guy named Donavan. The fact that you have that tattoo means you’re basically his slave. You were probably trying to steal coins from the wishing fountain in order to avoid some sort of punishment for not stealing enough for the day. Am I right so far?”

Maggie nodded. “No coin, no food. One meal a day, only if w-” Maggie found her voice cut off by the magical restrictions.

The woman just nodded and continued. “From what I’ve heard, people in your situation usually end up like this through some sort of unfair deal this Donavan guy strikes with you.” Maggie nodded. “And the tattoo probably has some magic that prevents you from just running away, am I right?” Maggie nodded again. “Ok, the only thing left to explain would be why you were being chased around like that-”

Suddenly, a tall blonde man with horns burst into the room with a flourish of his cape. A smell of sulfur seemed to accompany him. “Those men clearly intended to commit unspeakable acts against this young lady.” His voice had a silken quality to it that Maggie might have found soothing if she didn’t feel so instantly wary of the man. 

Maggie scuttled to the other side of the bed as quickly as she could — tangling her legs in the blanket in the process — and ducked behind it. She peered over the sheets only to be sure the tiefling didn’t approach, but made no other movements. Her gaze held the faintest hints of a glare. She couldn’t quite explain why she had such a reaction, especially when she’d never seen a tiefling in person before, but there she was.

“Ugh, Markus!” The woman turned to glare at the tiefling. “I told you to wait outside!”

“No, Ashe, you told Gregor to wait outside. I was not present for those instructions as I was busy doing some information gathering of my own. Those men last night were hunters for one of the local brothels. Obviously our little waif here got caught out after dark and was trying to escape initiation, so to speak.”

“Okay, so I guess that’s just about everything explained, then,” the woman sighed, running a hand through her hair. She turned towards Maggie, walking around the bed and kneeling so she was face-to-face with the redhead. “My name’s Aesling, by the way, but just call me Ashe. This big idiot over here is-”

“Markus Velafi,” the tiefling swoops up, again flourishing his cape as he brought his arm out in what Maggie assumed was an invitation for a handshake. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Maggie looked up at the blonde man, shrinking back again.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s harm-... Mostly harmless. More annoying than anything, most of the time. So, what’s your name?” Her yellow eyes were kind, gentle. Warm even. Something about her made Maggie feel more at ease.

“M-Maggie… I think.”

Ashe exchanged a look with Markus before speaking again. “Okay, Maggie, you can stay with us until we get this whole mess with the thieving guild sorted out, okay?”

Maggie’s eyes went wide. “Is that really okay?” The woman nodded and Maggie gave a broad grin. “Yes, thank you.”

“Great, you’re keeping a thief around now. Ashe, I thought I told you to stop hiring homeless people!” A man with black hair and dark eyes walked into the room. He had a hard face that looked like it frowned a lot and he wore a pair of silver bracelets on his wrists.

Ashe turned around and stood up. “I haven’t hired her, Thog. I just want to help her out. We were hired to take out that Donavan guy anyway. It couldn’t hurt to help her maybe get her old life back, whatever it was.”

“Oh, great. So we’re picking up a charity case then. Wonderful!” The man’s sarcasm was painfully obvious. “You know what? Fine. You take care of her then, Ashe. All her expenses are coming out of your pocket.”

“That’s just fine, Thog. Now will you please take Markus and get out of here?” Ashe shoved Markus out the door and slammed it into the two men’s faces. She heaved a sigh and looked over at Maggie.

Maggie slowly stood up, looking sheepish. “Um, I can just leave if me being here is going to be a problem for you. You don’t have to help me…”

It’s not a problem. Don’t listen to Thog, okay. He’s a grouch. Now… I think you’re probably going to need some different clothes if you’re going to be walking around town. No offense, but the patchy brown shirts are a bit of a red flag for the guards around here, it would seem.”

Maggie looked down at herself. Not only was Ashe right, but Maggie really hated those clothes. Donavan had given them to her after he cheated her out of everything she owned. Just another reminder of her lack of freedom.

Ashe turned to a satchel that was slung over one of the bed posts. “I have a spare set of clothes here you can wear. They might be a bit loose on you, but it’s better than nothing.” She held up a sleeveless top and a pair of trousers. 

Maggie looked at the clothes and squirmed, gripping her arms. “Do… do you have anything a little more… covering? I, um…”

Ashe frowned slightly, her brow furrowing into an expression Maggie wasn’t familiar with. Then she left the room, only to be back a few moments later with another bundle of clothes under her arm. “These are Gregor’s spares. I think he’s the only other one with clothes that’ll fit you.”

“I-it’s fine,” Maggie said, taking the clothes from Ashe’s hands. “These’ll be fine. Thank you.”


	4. Alaran Kind of Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie meets the rest of the group. And finally gets to eat. Perhaps there's a way out for her as well.

Maggie emerged from the room a few minutes later, wearing her borrowed clothes. She’d torn thin strips of cloth from her old cloak and used them to tie the sleeves at her wrists so they wouldn’t slip down. Another, thicker strip of fabric kept most of her hair tied back in a low ponytail, though her bangs still hung messily over her forehead and mostly obscured the tattoos there.

Ashe got up from where she was leaning against the wall and nodded appraisingly. “Yeah, I think this’ll work for now. Come on. Everyone’s eating lunch downstairs.”

Ashe lead Maggie down a flight of stairs and into a sparsely populated bar. Markus and Thog were sitting at a table with two other men, one of whom Maggie recognized as the one she’d bumped into by the fountain. They all appeared to be eating lunch and discussing something.

“Okay, guys, this is Maggie,” Ashe announced. “Maggie, this is Gregor,” she pointed to the one Maggie’d bumped into, “and Kyr,” then gestured towards a big burly man with red hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a somehow gaudy black cape and had a bunch of strange doodads strapped to his belts. “You’ve already met Markus and Thog, so no need for introductions there.”

Maggie gave them a shy wave of her hand.

Before another word could be said, Kyr went wide-eyed and stood suddenly. He pointed a finger at Maggie and in a loud voice declared, “Markus, you finally made a Gregor clone! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Maggie winced at the sudden shout and ducked behind Ashe instinctively. 

“Agh, Kyr, she’s not a clone,” Ashe yelled in response. “Whatever the hell that is.”

“Are you sure, Ashe? Because she looks remarkably like Gregor in that outfit,” Markus pipes up. “Just dye the hair, smear the freckles…”

Meanwhile, Gregor — now that she looked at him, Maggie rather thought he looked more childish than fully grown — walked up to Maggie, holding one hand to his chin as he looked her up and down. She shied away from the sudden scrutiny.

“Gregor… what are you doing?” Ashe edged away from the boy as well, eying him warily.

“Hmmm…. Something about her… looks familiar.”

“S-sorry about bumping into you the other day…” Maggie said, hoping to dispel the uncomfortable stares.

“Gregor, leave the poor girl alone,” Markus walked up and placed a hand on Gregor’s shoulder. “You can think about who she reminds you of later. Right now we need to make a game plan.”

“But I still have so many questions,” Kyr complained. “Where did you get doubles of Gregor’s clothes if she isn’t a clone?”

Ashe sighed. “Kyr, they don’t even look that alike. I just grabbed some of Gregor’s spare clothes so she’s not walking around in those rags all the time. No offense,” she said, turning back to Maggie, who shook her head.

Ashe took a seat at the table, Maggie taking the seat beside her and staring at the food. “You can go ahead and eat if you want. I’m sure you’re hungry.” Ashe pushed a bowl of soup towards the girl. It smelled really good and Maggie couldn’t help but oblige, grateful to finally fill her growling stomach.

“So, yeah, anyway,” Thog started speaking from where he sat next to Maggie, “the thieves’ guild is located in pretty much the centre of the poorman’s quarter. You want to get in there and get out as quick and quiet as possible because this Donavan guy has some crazy mage or whatever working for him.”

“Oh, please, Thog,” Markus piped up, flourishing his hands in some grand gesture, “if this man works for something as petty as a thieves’ guild, he couldn’t possibly match my magical prowess.” The word ‘prowess’ appeared in bright red letters above Markus’ head, eyeballs peeking out from several places on each of the letters. Maggie dropped her spoon in her soup, staring completely slackjawed.

Thog just glared at the tiefling. “Yeah, uh huh, no. Markus, you don’t even know how to gauge your new demon powers or whatever you want to call them, and this guild isn’t just your average thieves’ guild you find in any old country. This is a thieves’ guild in Alaran. These guys make more money than the local government. Racketeering, pick-pocketing, shady business deals, if it gets valuables out of people’s hands and into these guys’ pockets, they do it. Half the town has to pay him ‘protection fees’ just to make sure they can stay in business.”

“Which is why we were hired to take out Donavan, right?” Ashe spoke up. “We’re here to help out these townsfolk, right?”

“Yes and no.” Thog sighed. “The government mostly just wants him gone before he can usurp their power by buying them out. They’re hiring you guys,” he points to Ashe, Markus, and Gregor, “under the table to off the guy and prevent the whole system from being overturned… again.”

Ashe put her head in her hand and growled.

“Ashe, are you really surprised at this point?” Gregor asked her.

“No. No I’m not. Just… disappointed. I was being hopeful.”

“Anyway, back on the subject of the mage and why you should avoid him, Markus, I’ll give you a frame of reference here for what this guy can do. This guy can make tattoos that forcibly bind people into working for him.” Thog pointed at the black tattoo on Maggie’s forehead, his hand so close that Maggie had to lean back in her chair to keep him from touching her. 

“Hey, Thog, weren’t you wearing your bracelets?” Ashe asked suddenly, looking at the man’s wrist with a raised eyebrow.

Thog looked down at his wrist. Sure enough, the silver bracelet wasn’t there. He turned a deadly glare towards Maggie.

Maggie, shrinking down in her chair, put the bracelet on the table next to her bowl of soup. Everyone just stared at it incredulously.

“Sorry,” Maggie muttered as she sank lower into her chair, looking down at her lap.

“Okay, okay, I know Thog’s a grouchy old man and everything-” Kyr began to speak.

“I’m not that f****** old!” Thog interjects.

“-but still, why would you do that?” Kyr stared hard at Maggie for a moment. “You’re not Gregor’s Evil Twin, are you?”

“W-what?” Maggie scrunched her nose in confusion, then shook her head. “No, I… it’s because of-” finding herself cut off again by the magic, she pointed at the tattoo on her forehead. “I don’t even realize I do it sometimes.” Maggie, with her other hand, put a knife on the table, beside the bracelet, and turned to Ashe. “Sorry.”

Ashe looked down at her stomach guard, where she normally kept the knife. Then she looked at the knife on the table. “Wow. That’s… that’s actually kind of impressive… In a really scary sort of way.”

“Sorry.” Maggie shrank down in her seat again. Much farther and she’d be under the table.

Thog finally took his bracelet back and put it on his wrist again. “Well, I’ll admit it, I’m impressed. Really f****** p***** that I didn’t notice you take this thing, but impressed. Just don’t do it again.” The man gave Maggie a dead fish glare that made her entire body feel cold. 

“Thog, hand off the gun. She said she was sorry,” Markus tried to dispel the tension. “Think of it this way: we can use her to our benefit. With her helping us out, we’ll have a man on the inside, so to speak.”

“Markus, don’t you think we should ask if she wants to help us out, first?” Ashe gave Markus a look.

“I-it’s fine, Miss Aesling,” Maggie stammered. “I want to help. Donavan is scum, and, well, if helping can get me out of this,” she gestured to the tattoo again, “then all the better. I’m sick of picking pockets, and I’m sick of this place.”


	5. Deceit and Lies... No Honour Among Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie returns to the thieves' guild to a less than warm welcome. Not only that, but our little heroine learns some rather paradigm altering news. Luckily, the gang can always be counted on to make an entrance. Let's just hope they all come out of this okay.

People gave Maggie mixed looks as she slunk back into the thieves’ guild. Some were looks of pity, others surprise, and some just glared at her as she walked by them. She kept her head down as she always did, but there was no way for her to blend in. Her exposed red hair drew enough eyes, but her new clothes kept them on her.

It took a minute before she made it to the room where the petty thieves slept. The floor was covered in worn mats and dirty straw. One of the younger boys lay curled up in the corner, facing the wall and nursing a large bruise on his shoulder. Maggie gave him a pained glance before turning to the tiny window at the top of the far wall. 

At her height, she could just reach the window if she jumped high enough. It was a small thing. Maggie might just be able to squeeze through it with a bit of effort, if not for the bars that prevented such a feat. The last time she’d taken a look through it, she nearly got soaked. The window was exactly at street level, and rain tended to pour into the room like a drain.

Using a shard of glass she’d found outside, Maggie sliced off a lock of her hair. With a running jump, she grabbed onto the bars and hauled herself up to the window, scrabbling at the slick wall with her feet. Once she had a decent grip, Maggie took the lock of hair and tied it around one of the bars. The extra length fluttered in the breeze before sticking in a puddle. 

A voice came from the door just as Maggie dropped back to the ground. “Donavan wants a word with you, Maggot.”

Maggie’s head whipped around to see Malon. She instinctively ducked her head and slipped past the large man and back into the hallway. Malon followed close behind her as she scurried up the stairs and stopped before the big oaken door that lead to Donavan’s office. Shaking hands reached for the handle when it suddenly flew open on its own. Maggie turned to glance at Malon briefly before scooting into the office.

“Well, it looks like you had a pleasant night,” the fat man commented from behind his desk, looking the girl up and down. “Finally went and found yourself a benefactor, did you? Think he can pay your debts and set you free?”

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, Donavan continued to speak.

“Don’t think you can leave so easily, Maggot. Remember, your debt is a monthly recurrence. No man, I don’t care how rich a slob he is, is going to keep paying that price for a spineless little waif like you. Or… have you already forgotten the inn you were so desperate to save? The Fallen Soldier?”

Maggie gave Donavan a confused look, to which he laughed. It was an ugly, forceful laugh, that was more akin to a hacking cough. Maggie winced at the sound.

“By the gods, you do have a poor memory! That or you do better work than I thought, Malon. She can’t even remember the real reason she started working for me in the first place. Ha! Do you remember this then, Maggot? You couldn’t make your quota for the first few weeks, and each day you came up short you exchanged one of your little trinkets for a meal and a place to sleep.” Donavan gave Maggie a wicked grin as her lips drew tight. 

She remembered that. Each item she gave over to him felt like she was giving away some part of her past, something that she couldn’t remember for the life of her. She’d sworn to herself each time that she would get it back, earn enough coin to take her life back and escape this hell. 

“Well, at least you can take comfort in knowing that I’m taking very good care of your things.” Donavan pulled open a drawer and pulled out a bundle wrapped up in a teal blue cloak. Even though Maggie couldn’t see what was inside, she remembered every item. But she couldn’t move. Donavan grinned wider. “It’s just killing you, isn’t it? Malon here is one of the best sorcerers in Alaran. Smartest investment I ever made.” The man chuckled again, stuffing the bundle back where he’d gotten it.

Maggie’s expression twisted into a glare. “You cheated me! The Fallen Soldier burned down two months ago. All this time I’ve been your slave for nothing!”

Maggie struggled against the magic that bound her in place, thrashing as she felt her blood begin to boil. Her fury was so great, it almost didn’t feel like it was her own. Unnoticed by her or Donavan, tiny flames started to lick at the carpet on the floor, though they were quickly snuffed out by Malon.

Donavan looked like he was about to reply, when suddenly an explosion shook the whole building. Maggie found herself knocked off her feet while Donavan and Malon were each thrown into a wall.

Donavan glared fiercely. “The f*** was that? Malon, go deal with whatever that was. As for you,” he turned his gaze on Maggie, “I think you need a reminder of exactly why I’m the d***** boss here.” 

The man strode over to Maggie and grabbed her roughly by the hair, forcing her to her knees as Malon released the holding spell. Donavan dragged the girl by the ponytail into the connecting room. Against one wall was a knife rack and several hooks with various whips, and on the opposite wall were manacles bolted to it, just high enough that Maggie had to stand on her toes to keep the weight off her wrists. Maggie hated this room. There were still stains on the floor, and some knives sat on a table, waiting to be cleaned. 

Donavan chained her up beside the table, though that took a few minutes through the girl’s struggling. The man slugged her across the cheek to stun her into submission and he locked the manacles tight, then turned towards the weapon rack.

He came around to face her again, a knife in his hand. More explosions and shouts could be heard from downstairs. Donavan didn’t seem to care. He played with the blade for a moment, before slashing the knife across the fresh bruise forming on Maggie’s face.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Maggot. The Fallen Soldier didn’t just burn down… I ordered it to be destroyed. You’re a good pick-pocket, I’ll admit that, but even your quota wouldn’t barely make a fraction of what I could get out of the insurance on that place.”

Maggie looked at Donavan in horror.

He grinned. “That’s right, I bought the place out months ago. Just after you sold yourself into slavery over it, in fact. So, in reality, you were working for nothing this whole time. And now, there’s nothing you can do about it, because I own you. You’d do well to f****** remember that!” He emphasized his point with another slash of the knife, cutting deeply across the thick of Maggie’s arm. She let out a scream as the hot blood poured down her arm and, subsequently, her front.

Another explosion went off downstairs, shaking the floor and making the empty chains rattle against the wall. Donavan scowled at the door before punching Maggie in the gut. She gasped and choked while he smiled.

There was more shouting. One of the higher ranked thieves, one of the ones willingly working for Donavan, shouted for the thief-master to get out while he still had the chance. Apparently the building was on fire, and Malon was losing the fight. Donavan turned around to beat his retreat, and Maggie took her chance.

When the fat man had his back turned, Maggie swung her legs up and caught him around the neck, tightening into a choke hold. The man clawed and squirmed, struggling to escape, to get air, anything. Maggie’s injured arm screamed in pain at all the weight now being placed on it, but Maggie ignored it. She only squeezed tighter, until the thrashing stopped and the heavy man fell limply from her grasp.

Maggie’s legs went limp and she hung there gasping. Was he dead? Had she just killed a man?

Boom! 

No time to dwell on that now. If the building was on fire, she had to get out while she had the chance. After a few moments of squirming, Maggie managed to dislocate her wrist on her good arm and slip her hand out of the manacle. The other arm was harder due to the deep cut and the pain, but she eventually got that hand free as well.

Nursing her bad arm, Maggie ran back to Donavan’s office. Her eyes went immediately to the bow hanging on the wall behind the desk. Running over, she snatched it from where it was mounted, cradling it possessively in her arms. Then she turned around and wrenched open the drawer where the rest of her things were hidden. She cradled the bundle in her good arm. A nervous smile played across her features before another explosion shook the whole building, knocking Maggie into the desk headfirst. There was a sharp, burning pain in her head, then everything went black.


	6. Problem Solved...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good news ahead!   
> Talking while running... I always wondered how some people can do that.

“Why do you guys always need to do things that cause explosions? We could have gotten in and out so easily if you two had just been quiet like we’d planned!”

Maggie woke to find herself being carried in someone’s arms. Everything was blurry at first, including her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if she was being moved forwards or backwards, or even which way was up. She squirmed, only half struggling to be put down.

“Hey, Ashe, I think she’s waking up,” Maggie heard a familiar voice call out. Her vision finally cleared and she saw that the one holding her was Kyr. He seemed to be running. Looking around, the whole group seemed to be running. 

“Huh, what?” Maggie mumbled, trying to turn for a better look at their surroundings. They were just running out of the thieves’ guild, which seemed to be collapsing behind them. Chasing them were a group of thugs whom Maggie recognized from the thieves’ guild. “What’s going on?” She shouted, struggling more to get out of the big man’s arms.

“Markus and Kyr happened, that’s what!” Ashe yelled from in front of them. “Nice to see you’re alright, by the way.”

“Yeah, those guys are kinda mad we killed the mage and blew up their base, so we’re running!” Kyr blabbered as he continued to run with Maggie in his arms, seeming not to notice her escape efforts.

Maggie stopped struggling for a moment. “Wait… Malon’s dead? He’s actually dead? You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Ashe replied, sprinting around a corner after Gregor while Markus and Kyr followed. 

“Yeah, I don’t think most people can survive getting stabbed in the chest like that,” Gregor commented from the front of the group.

“Um, guys, not to alarm any of you, but the thugs are gaining on us,” Markus shouted, looking worried.

“Well, then do something about it!” Ashe retorted, running faster.

Markus swept an arm up behind him and a wall of living darkness seemed to rise up from the ground, dividing the area between the thugs and them. A fanged mouth sat in the centre, open in a silent scream.

Maggie’s eyes went wide and she began to thrash about in Kyr’s arms again. “Pustite ma, človeče! Odmietam cestovať s démonickú bohom-zabijaka!”

Markus and Kyr’s eyes went straight to Maggie, the former’s narrow and the latter’s wide. 

“Wow… Why would you say something like that?... Oh, hey, did your eyes change colour? I think they just changed colour. They totally changed colour.”

“You speak Ishtolan?” Markus asked in a calmer, darker voice.

“What?” Maggie shook her head and looked between the two men in frightened bewilderment. “What’re you talking about?”

“They did it again!” Kyr exclaimed as they rounded yet another corner to come out in one of the main streets where they stopped running and Kyr finally put Maggie down.

“You think they’re still following us?” Gregor asked, not looking at all winded.

“Oh, no worries about that, Gregor,” Markus replied with a proud grin once he’d regained his composure. “That shadow wall should stall them for at least another few minutes. Either they’ll figure out they can just run through it, which I doubt, or they’ll find some way around.”

“Ugh, let’s… let’s just get back to the inn, guys.” Ashe sighed, looking tired. “We can talk about what happened after I get something to drink.”

Back at the inn, it was crowded with people, especially at the bar. Thog was standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for them, two mugs of ale in his hands. 

“Judging by all the smoke coming from the poor quarter, I’m going to go ahead and guess you guys managed to take out the thieves’ guild.” He handed one of the mugs to a very grateful Ashe and looked hard at Maggie. “The tattoo’s gone, so why the hell is the thief still with you?”

Ashe glared at Thog. “The building was going to collapse. We couldn’t just leave her in there unconscious. Besides, I promised I’d help her get her old life back, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll still cover all her expenses.”

Thog and Ashe locked glares for a moment before Thog shrugged and looked away. “Fine, suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when you find out your wallet’s missing.” The man began climbing the stairs, the rest of the group following after.

Maggie hesitated.

Gregor looked back, noticing the girl’s hesitation. “Hey, come on. Don’t listen to Thog. You’re our friend, and friends don’t let friends sleep in the streets.” He walked over to the redhead and put a hand on her back to guide her up the stairs. “You can stay in our room. I can share the floor bed, if you like. There’s plenty of space. It’ll be like a big slumber party!”

Maggie flinched and shied away from the boy’s touch. “Um, thanks but…”

“Gregor, there’s no space in your room,” Ashe retorted from the first landing. “Even if there was, Maggie’s a girl. If she’s going to sleep anywhere, it’ll be in my room.”

“Aw, but I have questions to ask her, and I wanted to braid her hair,” Gregor pouted.

“You can ask her in the morning, Gregor. She’s clearly tired. Go… go sharpen your glaive, or something.” Ashe shood the boy away and looked back down to Maggie. “Come on, then. I can take a look at those cuts now, and maybe we can finally talk.”

Maggie absently put a hand to her arm. It still hurt, and blood still oozed from it. She could feel the blood on her face had already dried.

Reluctantly, Maggie followed Ashe up the stairs and into her room. The woman grabbed a bowl full of steaming water and a cloth and used it to dab at the dried blood on Maggie’s face.

“That black tattoo’s gone.” Maggie nodded slightly, smiling a little. “So, remember who you are now?” Ashe asked, occasionally glancing into the girl’s eyes.

“A little. It’s only recent stuff, but it’s more than I had. I was working at an inn for a while… the Fallen Soldier. The innkeeper took care of me, and I helped wait tables. She was a nice old woman. Donavan… he wanted protection money. The innkeeper wouldn’t pay him, so his men kept coming and breaking the windows, knocking tables over while we had customers, they even busted down the doors a few times. Eventually, she couldn’t afford to pay for the damages anymore because customers stopped coming. This meant she couldn’t afford the protection fees either. I offered myself as payment… I’d work for Donavan to pay off the fee every month.”

“And then he marked you as his slave?”

Maggie gave a small nod. “Yeah. Turns out he went and bought the inn just after I started working for him… then he burned it down.”

“F****** whoreson!” Ashe cursed. Maggie flinched away, drawing the woman’s eyes again. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“N-no, it’s… the swearing…. Donavan would do that before punishing me. Call me vulgar names… take out his frustration on me. I think he just really liked to use me as an outlet.” Maggie shivered. 

Ashe’s expression flashed rapidly from anger to sympathy. “I… Sorry. I’m used to cussing when I’m upset. I’ll try to keep a lid on it. Here, let me take a look at your arm, before you pass out from bloodloss.”

Maggie grimaced, putting a hand over the wound and leaning away. “Please, don’t… I’d rather not. It’s… I don’t like people to see.”

Ashe responded with a frown. “Maggie, I want to respect your privacy, I really do, but that wound’s really deep. I can tell from here. If it’s the tattoos you’re worried about, you don’t have to be. I’ve got them too. Now, come on. It’ll get infected if I don’t treat it.” She reached out towards Maggie’s arm.

“No!… I can look after it myself. Thank you, but… just… no.” Maggie shifted farther away. Her hand gripped her arm tighter, ever so slightly.

There was a moment of silence. Ashe sighed and stood up, leaving the bowl and rag on the table. “Fine. There’s bandages in my satchel, and your things are with Markus. You can get those whenever you’re ready. Go ahead and take the bed if you like, too. I’m not going to be sleeping much tonight.”

And, with that, Ashe left, closing the door softly behind her. Maggie let out a sigh of relief and took off the robe, tending to all the blood on herself.


	7. Care to Join Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All freed and nowhere to go. But what's so bad about Alaran? I mean, aside from the thugs, and the contracts, and the tax goats.... Yeah, probably best to leave.

Ashe returned to the room the next morning to find Maggie asleep on a rug at the foot of the bed. She was still wearing Gregor’s spare clothes as she lay curled up on her left side, the side that didn’t have the arm wound. Her hair had become a tangled mess behind her.

“Just like Gregor,” Ashe mumbled, shaking her head. The amber-eyed woman knelt down beside the girl and gingerly shook her shoulder. “Maggie, wake up. It’s morning.”

“Hmn?” Maggie’s eyes opened just a crack, then bolted open and she practically jumped into a sitting position. “I’m awake!” She was panting slightly, panic laced in her eyes before she took in her surroundings and calmed down. “Oh… Oh, right. Phew,” she sighed. “S-sorry, Miss Aesling. I forgot where I was for a moment.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘Miss’. ‘Ashe’ is just fine. Why were you sleeping on the floor?”

Maggie looked down at the rug she was sitting on, then up at the bed behind her. “Beds… just aren’t comfortable for me. I feel like I’m being smothered.”

Ashe’s eyes softened and she stood up, offering a hand. “Come on. The guys ordered breakfast downstairs. You’re hungry, right?”

Maggie looked at the offered hand for a moment before taking it. Ashe helped pull Maggie to her feet and the two walked down to where the others were already seated. The redhead quickly tied her mess of hair back as she took the seat between Ashe and Gregor.

“Ah, good morning, Maggie,” Markus greeted her with a toothy smile across the table. “We were just talking about you.”

“You were?” Maggie asked, taking a slice of bread and spreading some jam over it.

“Yeah, we were trying to figure out how to get rid of you,” Thog replied in his usual cold monotone. 

“That was only you, Thog,” Gregor piped up.

“We were actually debating where you might have come from before working for Donavan,” Markus joined in. “A book fell out of your quiver when I was putting your stuff down. It looked like a journal, but I couldn’t read any of it.”

“Markus, you can’t just go around reading people’s journals!” Ashe scolded the tiefling while everyone else continued to eat their breakfast. 

“So, where do you come from?” Kyr asked, taking Maggie’s attention away from the scolding.

“Um, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. The farthest back I can remember is about three or four years, I think. I was apprenticed to a travelling carpenter… then something happened and I was left alone in Alaran. Miss Hemmingway, the innkeeper at the Fallen Soldier, found me and took me in, then I worked for her for about a year until I ended up in the thieves’ guild. I might be wrong about the timing, though. It all gets a little fuzzy for me.”

“You can’t remember any more than that?” Ashe asked, looking concerned for some reason. 

Maggie shook her head. “I tried, but every time I do, my head hurts.”

“And the Fallen Soldier went up in smoke two months ago.” Thog sighed in annoyance. “So what you’re saying is that you have no idea where you come from and you have nowhere to go from here. Are you sh****** me right now?”

Maggie flinched. “I’m sorry. I really wish I could remember more, but I just can’t.”

“Lay off, Thog,” Ashe interjected. “Give her a little more time. I’m sure the memories will come back to her eventually.”

“I say we keep her!” Gregor threw his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. She tried to slip out of his hold, but he was much stronger than she expected.

“Maggie’s not a cat, Gregor. Just because we found her in the street, doesn’t mean we can just pick her up and take her home with us.”

“But we did that with Kyr,” the boy protested, letting go of Maggie.

“Yeah, you guys did that with me. I mean, sure, I kind of followed you around, but you guys let me come!”

“Still say that was a terrible decision,” Thog muttered.

“Besides,” Gregor continued, “we can’t just leave her here in Alaran. She’s not tough like Thog.”

Ashe considered for a moment, regarding Maggie once again. “You do have a point there, Gregor. This place is pretty awful.” She turned to glance at Thog, who gave a shrug and a small nod.

“Not to mention those thugs will probably have a word or two for Maggie if they catch her again,” Markus added. “What do you think, Maggie? Care to join us at the Nine Shrines bar?”

Maggie looked hesitantly at Markus, who was smiling in the most welcoming manner possible. Then she looked around the rest of the table. Thog just gave her his usual dead fish eye stare, completely unreadable and rather chilling. Kyr had a big grin on his face, his blue eyes shining as he nodded. Ashe smiled encouragingly next to her, and Gregor on her other side looked like an eager puppy begging to be petted.

“... Sure. Why not? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Yay! New party member!” Gregor jumped happily in his chair. 

“B-before we go anywhere, though… Um, Mr. Velafi, sir, can I have my stuff back?”


	8. Leave Alaran Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some interactions with Gregor and Ashe. A bit of fluff for the journey to the Shrouded Isles.

Maggie wasn’t quite sure the exact reason why, but it felt good to finally be back in her own clothes again. The familiar feel of the fabric on her skin, the faint lingering scent of brewing ale, lavender, and sawdust, or maybe just the sentimental value. She couldn’t be sure what.

It was a simple outfit; a plain, brown shirt under a moss-green tabard with a simple belt, and black pants that tucked into fitted brown boots. The most remarkable aspect was a teal-blue cloak. It was pinned in place with an old belt buckle, since its proper clasp was broken.

Maggie was just fitting leather vambraces on her arms when someone knocked at the door.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open. It was Gregor. “Thog’s done collecting our payment. He’s threatening to leave without you if you don’t hurry up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m ready,” Maggie replied, scooping the last of her things into her quiver before belting it to her hip.

Gregor stared at Maggie, hand on his chin. He whispered something under his breath. “You’re just going to leave your hair like that?”

Maggie shrugged and followed the boy into the hallway. “Can’t do a thing with it. My brush was lost with the guild.” She pulled her hood over the tangled red mess.

“Come on, we’re burning daylight here!” Thog called as the two made their way down the stairs. “Tax day is tomorrow, and I want to be as far from Alaran as possible when it happens.”

Ashe regarded the bow held in Maggie’s left hand. “You’re an archer, Maggie?”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know when I learned, but I remember using the bow a few times to hunt back when I was with the carpenter. I’m a bit clumsy, though, so I don’t know how good of a shot I must have been.”

The group left the inn, continuing to chat amiably — except for Thog, who held a displeased silence. They made their way through the market district — Maggie managed to avoid the guards’ attention — and over to the docks where Thog promptly chartered a ship and herded everyone on board.

 

Everyone seemed to find their own place on the ship once they were at sea. On the second day, Thog was somewhere below deck. Ashe alternated between carving something out of wood and writing in a journal. Markus (whom Maggie stayed as far away from as possible) and Kyr were holding a lively discussion with idle crewmen at the stern. Gregor and Maggie stood at the prow of the ship, looking intently at the water before them.

“Is that a sea monster?” Gregor asked for what the twelfth time.

“No, that’s just driftwood. Oh, look, dolphins!” Maggie was glad to be able to enjoy herself like this. The calm, not having to worry about her next meal or getting caught with a hand in someone’s pocket, it was so nice. “What’s your home like?”

Gregor turned his attention from the ocean to the redhead. “You mean the bar? It’s great! We found it when we were sent to go kill a death god. It still needs a lot of fixing up because Markus and Kyr keep making holes and setting stuff on fire sometimes, but it’s pretty comfortable. We sleep under the tables mostly, though I like to go sleep under the stars when it’s really nice out. There’s trees everywhere, and people started moving back to the islands so we get sort of regular business now too. The Prison of Lights is nearby, but it’s not so bad as long as you remember to bring a lantern.”

Maggie listened to the boy prattle on about the bar and the islands and his friend Dont (such a strange name). Then he went on to talk about something called Charoth and how Ashe wouldn’t let him kill it, and then about different monsters he’d killed. She had to admit, it was endearing, the way he got so excited about these things. Something about it felt almost familiar.

A gust of wind blew over the pair and Maggie found her hood thrown off and her hair whipped into her face. As she struggled to bring the red locks into submission, she felt a pair of warm hands take the mess from her.

“Huh? Wha-?”

“I’ll braid your hair for you,” Gregor offered, continuing to gather it all before dividing it into three groups. He ran his fingers gently through the locks, working through any knots with practiced ease, and he began to pleat it.

Maggie was stunned into silence. She allowed herself to be guided into a sitting position. They were silent for a few moments, save for some jovial humming from Gregor. It was surprisingly soothing.

“How are you so good at this?” Maggie asked, noting the lack of any pain that she would have expected if anyone else were to play with her hair.

“I have long hair too. Sometimes I get bored and braid it for fun. There, all finished!”

Maggie felt the braid and pulled it over her shoulder to look at it. The pleats were all even and so smooth, like something out of a painting. “Wow, that’s amazing, Gregor. Thank you.”

The boy grinned. Then he frowned. He leaned up close to Maggie, scrutinizing her appearance.

“Um, can you stop doing that?”

“You look just like a friend I had back in Renalan. Do you know the Outriders?”

Maggie thought for a moment. “I think I heard some customers at the Fallen Soldier talking about them a few times. Weren’t they all executed for crimes against the nation?” Maggie felt a sort of twist inside her. Strange.

“Those were false charges!” Gregor smacked a fist into the deck, making Maggie jump in shock. It left a dent of splintered wood, and one of the sailors rushed over to scold the pair for not being careful with the ship, which was apparently “very fragile”.

The two were shooed away from the prow while some of the sailors made “repairs” (all they did was glue a new piece of wood over the dent). Gregor wandered off to sharpen his glaive and Maggie, now slightly unnerved, decided to sit and talk to Ashe instead.

“Does he always get that upset when he talks about home?” She asked, sitting cross-legged before the white-haired woman.

Ashe’s yellow eyes flicked up to Maggie from the little totem she was carving. “Not usually. We don’t talk about each other’s pasts much, and when he does, he usually glosses over it. He could probably go on all week about how great the Outriders were and how many monsters he’s slain. Come to think of it… I think that’s the most emotion I’ve seen out of him on the subject.”

“Okay, so don’t talk about the Outriders’ execution. Good to know.”

“You wouldn’t know why they all got executed, would you? I’ll admit, I am a little curious.”

Maggie shook her head. “No, all I know is hearsay from working at the Fallen Soldier. Bar gossip. There was some speculation, but it was all rather vague, and no two people ever agreed.”

“Well, don’t worry about it too much. Oddly enough, we don’t really go into each other’s pasts very much, but we still get along…” she paused for a moment, considering. “Most of the time, at least.”

With a sigh, Maggie chose to let the matter rest. She noticed what Ashe was carving; something about it seemed familiar, and she leaned closer to get a better look. “What’s that, Miss Ashe? Can I look?”

The white-haired woman gave Maggie a look, then shook her head slightly. “It’s a charm against bad dreams,” she told her, handing over the totem. “They’re a pretty common thing back on Meathe, but you don’t see them anywhere else.”

Maggie ran her fingers over the wood, feeling all the intricate details, the nagging familiarity, then she looked up. “Do you have bad dreams, too?” Her eyes went sympathetic for a moment as she looked at Ashe. 

The woman gave Maggie a hesitant smiled. “No, not really. It’s an old superstition, and I don’t really believe in it. I guess… I guess I get a little homesick sometimes. And it’s calming to have something to work on like this. Did you ever do any carving like this when you were with the carpenter?”

“No,” Maggie shook her head again. “I was just an apprentice. I helped put up houses and make furniture and stuff, but the carpenter did all the carving. I’m really clumsy if I don’t concentrate hard enough, and even when I do, the few times I did try, I just ended up cutting myself.”

“Do you remember the carpenter’s name?”

Maggie thought for a bit, then shook her head with a sigh. “No. I remember it was something very strange, but the sounds of it… I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s fine. You’ll remember eventually. To be honest, I envy you a bit.”

Maggie looked up, confused. “You do? Why?”

Ashe shook her head. “Sometimes… it’d be nice to forget my past.” She looked over at the redhead. “Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll be alright.”


	9. A Home at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the journey over, the gang finally returns to the Shrouded Isles. Maggie finds comfort in the island setting, and finally feels like she's become part of the group.

Two days later, the ship finally arrived at their destination, an island known as Kinir. Ashe all but leapt off the boat, though whether it was from joy at returning home or eagerness to get away from the poorly-made vessel, Maggie wasn’t sure. Kyr and Gregor followed after with Maggie in tow. Markus took another minute to say his goodbyes to the crewmen, whom he’d managed to swindle out of most of their money, then finally left the ship himself.

“Come on, Maggie,” Gregor tugged at the girl’s arm, “you should meet Dont.”

“Gregor, Dont’s probably back on Ishir, right now,” Ashe pointed out. “Let’s just go introduce her to Kyl’il, then she can meet Dont another day. Quite frankly, I just want to say hi to Charoth then get back to the bar.”

“Far be it from me to object to visiting Kyl’il,” Markus flourished, producing a small bouquet of flowers. “Let’s go!” The tiefling strode off in a direction, the rest following after him.

“Where did he get those from?” Maggie wondered aloud.

Ashe turned and pointed to a patch of grass with holes in the ground where flowers used to be. “Over there, I’m guessing. He does this all the time.”

As they walked, Maggie noticed little puffs of mist floating aimlessly about town. One passed right in front of her and she stopped suddenly, startled.

“What are these?”

“Oh, those are wisps,” Kyr explained. “Dumb little floaty things that hang around this part of the island.”

Ashe gave Kyr a look, then turned to Maggie. “They’re a sort of in-between state for spiritfolk, between death and reincarnation. Don’t worry, they’re harmless.”

Maggie held a hand out to one of the wisps. It seemed to move closer to her palm, filling her with a calm, warm feeling. She smiled, then scampered off after the others.

Kyl’il’s house was very nice, with lacy curtains in the window and flower boxes on the sills. Inside, Maggie could see that it was well looked after. Not a speck of dust could be found on the table that housed at least a dozen lanterns.

Kyl’il herself had a magnificent appearance as well. Her clothing was elegant yet simple, and a pair of great, curling horns perched atop her head, a single mote of flame hovering just above them. Even her eyes resembled burning embers. The embodiment of beauty.

Markus, at least, seemed to agree as he swept right up to the woman and presented his bouquet. “Hello, my dearest Kyl’il. Did you miss me?”

“Hello, Markus. I see you have been picking my flowers again… I do wish you would stop that.” The woman turned to regard the others. “Ah, I see you’ve brought a new face to the isles.”

“This is Maggie,” Ashe introduced. “We freed her from a slavery contract back in Alaran.”

“Um, hello, Miss Kyl’il.” Maggie wasn’t sure if she should wave or bow or what, so she just ended up standing stiffly in place.

Kyl’il appeared to frown slightly. “She is… odd. Much like…” she turned to Ashe, who shook her head. Kyl’il gave a brief nod. “Regardless, welcome, Maggie.” Kyl’il bowed her head, and Maggie responded in kind, however awkwardly. 

Ashe looked around. “Is Charoth here?”

“Charoth is currently away with Dont at present. If you wish to see him, I would recommend visiting tomorrow.”

The group left shortly after. They returned to the harbour and climbed into a pair of rowboats that Kier had apparently hidden under the pier. Thog and Kier did most of the rowing, and while Maggie did offer to help at one point, Ashe was quick to remind her of the cut on her arm.

“Why do we have to take boats to go to the next island?” Maggie asked as they neared the Velvet District.

“Because the Prison of Lights is the only other way and it’s a scary place and really not fun to go through,” Kier replied. “It’s really really dark in there.”

Maggie tilted her head slightly and turned to Ashe. “Mr. Gregor mentioned the Prison of Lights, too, back on the ship. What exactly is that place?”

Ashe visibly shuddered. “It’s a place where a really wicked spirit is bound. That thing… it took over all the previous denizens of the prison and its shadow wanders around in there…. Just take my word for it, the Prison of Lights is not a place you want to visit.”

Kier docked their boat, Thog pulling his up beside them, and everyone disembarked. People and spiritfolk alike were milling about town, going about their business and generally seeming to get along with each other.

“Wow, where did these people all come from?” Maggie looked around. Judging by appearances, there were people from all over the Free Isles living there.

“Here and there,” Markus shrugged. “We seem to have a habit of picking up strays. There’s some Ohnorians, some are from Altreia, there’s a Kuravian couple living around here somewhere, even some Alaranni who got sick of Alaran moved in. Isn’t that right, Thog?”

Thog muttered something under his breath. “Let’s just get back to the bar? I wanna see if those repairs were done like I ordered.” The man grouched off over the small bridge that connected that island with the next. Everyone else followed.

Maggie marvelled at how peaceful the area around the bar seemed. True to Gregor’s word, there really were trees everywhere. The occasional wisp floated by, and a few flowers speckled the grass. The bar itself had a cozy, middle-of-nowhere kind of feeling to it, although looking slightly shambled. A single-story wooden structure with big windows and an even bigger stone sitting just to the side of the entrance.

“Well, Maggie, welcome to the Nine Shrines,” Ashe greeted her as they walked closer. 

“Adventures and Dines,” Markus added with a devilish grin. Ashe scoffed and walked just a bit faster.

As everyone else entered the establishment, Maggie paused by the stone. Some strange runes appeared to have been carved into it long ago, serving as a sign of sorts. The redhead placed a hand over one of the runes and one thought entered her mind, gazing at the foreign language.

“No regrets,” she whispered, eyes half-lidded.

“Huh, did you say something?” Kier asked, walking past.

“No,” Maggie replied, wrinkling her nose slightly in confusion.

The girl finally entered the building herself. It was cozy inside. Thog was wandering around appraising the floorboards and ceiling while the others sat around a booth. Ashe had a bottle of something in her hand as she waved Maggie over.

“Make yourself comfortable. Thog hasn’t made you official yet, but from now on you can consider this place your home.”

“Part of the family,” Gregor added with a smile.

Maggie couldn’t help but grin along with the others. It had been so long since she had felt this kind of companionship. Not since… she couldn’t even remember. Ashe handed Maggie a drink and the girl let herself forget her worries. Tonight, she was going to be happy.


	10. A Relaxing Morning?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie gets to meet Dont and spend a morning exercising. And Thog might not be quite as much of a grouch as Maggie first thought... maybe.

Sunlight filtered through the windows, stirring Maggie from her slumber. She was lying on one of the benches, one arm draped across her chest and the other hanging over the edge. She reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes, feeling a slight twinge in her arm as she did so. 

Right, the cut.

Looking around, Maggie found Gregor asleep under another table, with Markus draped overtop, and Thog sitting at the bar with a coffee mug in hand as he looked over some papers. Ashe was nowhere to be seen. Maggie vaguely remembered her leaving at some point the previous night, when things had started to go a little more quiet. She found her vambraces, quiver, and belt on the table where she’d put them before falling asleep.

Without a sound, the redhead got to her feet and stretched, feeling her vertebrae pop pleasantly. As she stretched up towards the ceiling, she felt the sleeves of her shirt slide away from her wrists. With a hurried motion, she pulled her arms back down and tugged the fabric back into place. Looking around, no one seemed to have noticed, but another twinge in her arm told Maggie she would have to take a look at the wound.

There was a back room in the bar. Maggie went in there to take off her tabard and shirt. The bandages were slightly bloodstained, and very stuck to her skin, but the wound looked better. The skin had already started slowly knitting itself back together, and there didn’t appear to be any signs of infection. 

As she pulled her shirt back on, Maggie couldn’t help but look at the tattoos that covered her torso. Blue, thorny branches clung to her ribs in menacing coils, all ending just before the sternum. On her belly, there was a more faded tattoo — something in the vague shape of a triangle, but with more complicated lines that crossed over each other in an intricate pattern in the centre.

Maggie’s breath caught, and she pulled the cloth down to cover the skin. The door clicked. Whirling around, hands still gripping the hem of her shirt, she saw Thog standing there, papers in one hand, coffee mug in the other.

Both stared at each other for a moment, Maggie blushing, and Thog with his mouth open like he was about to say something but the words got caught in his throat.

Maggie stumbled back a step, stammering. “D-did you… you didn’t see anything… did you?” Her hands moved from the hem of her shirt to her sleeves, tugging furiously at them.

“Nope,” Thog cleared his throat. “Didn’t see a thing.” He was looking away, although only slightly. “Since you’re awake, let’s go over the terms of your contract, shall we?”

“Contract?” Maggie’s eyes widened slightly.

“Relax, this one’s not magical. Technically, you can back out of it whenever you want, and we’re not going to wipe your memory or any bull**** like that.”

Maggie flinched at the cuss, but otherwise appeared to relax. “O-oh… okay, then.”

Thog motioned behind the girl at a chair that sat before a nice-looking desk. She hadn’t noticed before, but this was probably the man’s office. Maggie blushed slightly before taking a seat at the desk. Thog walked around to the other side and did the same.

Placing the sheaf of papers before the girl, Thog began to summarize as she started to read. “Basically, this contract covers the terms of your employment. You will be paid a portion of money earned for each mission the group takes on that you participate in. During times when there is no adventuring work, you will be paid a monthly salary for working in the bar…. You did say you worked in a bar previously, yes?

Maggie nodded. “I mixed drinks, served tables, and cleaned. I also tried cooking several times… but I got banned from the kitchen. I’m too clumsy to be safe around the stove… or the knives.”

Thog nodded and took a few notes in a journal before continuing. “Alright, then. Any expenses you create in the bar will be deducted from your pay, but damages are covered by insurance, so you don’t need to worry about that. The rest is mostly just common sense stuff; don’t kill your teammates, don’t kill customers, don’t go taking on any quests without speaking to me or Ashe about it first. Stuff like that. So, just sign your name on the line, and you’re official.”

Maggie wrote her name in shaky letters before sliding the contract and pen across the table back to Thog. The man gave the paper a cold stare before filing it away someplace. “Great. Welcome to the Nine Shrines Bar and Adventuring Agency, yadda yadda, make yourself at home.”

Thog shooed Maggie from the room with a wave of his hand. She grabbed her remaining articles of clothing and left the room to see Markus and Gregor now awake and eating some muffins that had appeared on one of the tables.

“Maggie!” Gregor called cheerfully. “You’re just in time to meet Dont! Come join us.”

The redhead pulled her tabard over her head and sat herself beside Gregor. On the other side of the bar stood a young lady of indeterminate age with what looked like cat ears and a tail. Maggie couldn’t stop herself from staring.

“Dont, this is Maggie, our new party member. Maggie, meet Dont!”

“Nice to meet you,” the girl beamed sweetly. “A friend of Gregor is a friend of mine. So, where do you come from?”

“Um… recently? Alaran, I guess. Before that… I have no idea.”

“You still can’t remember before the carpenter?” Markus asked, leaning around Gregor.

“Well… there’s some things… but they’re too small to be anything significant. It’s like… fragments. I remember… trees rushing past me… sleeping under the stars…. It’s all foggy.” Maggie swiped a hand across her forehead and shook her head just slightly. “Trying to give them context just hurts.”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” Gregor put an arm around the girl’s shoulder. She stiffened. “You can always make new memories with us, then your old ones won’t matter.”

“T-thanks, Gregor,” Maggie stammered, trying to peel his arm away. “Um, so those muffins…?”

Dont immediately perked up at the mention of the pastries. “Oh, yes, I made them! Here, try one. It’s carrot, hope that’s okay.”

“Mmm, it’s good,” Maggie said around the chunk of muffin in her mouth, then swallowed. “You’re really good at baking.”

“Aw, stop,” Dont blushed, waving her hand. “So, what are you guys doing today?”

Markus took a big swig of coffee before replying. “Well, I’m off to Kyr’s to work on… a secret project. Don’t tell Ashe, okay?” He winked before turning to leave.

The cat-eared girl saluted. “You got it, Markus. And you Gregor?”

The boy turned to Maggie, smiling. “I figured Maggie and I could train for a while. You feeling up for that?”

“Um, sure, I guess. I’m not much of a fighter, though. On the streets, it’s better not to join them.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. Come on!” He grabbed the redhead’s hand and started pulling her towards the front door. “Dont, are you gonna watch today?”

"Wait! At least let me get my belt." Maggie slipped her hand out of the boy's grip and scurried over to the table, grabbed her things and followed him outside.

"I have some staves here somewhere," Gregor muttered, scrounging through a bush. "Here they are! Catch." He tossed a long, straight stick at Maggie and she just managed to catch it, nearly dropping the brace she'd been trying to fit onto her arm.

The girl held the staff a bit awkwardly, staring at it like a foreign object. She looked over at Dont. The spirit girl smiled encouragingly, then vanished into a puff of smoke, replaced by a small pig with bat wings. The creature, whom Maggie decided must be Dont, then flapped its tiny wings to bring itself up to perch on the rock sign.

Maggie turned to Gregor in some semblance of hope for an explanation. He’d already taken a stance and was clearly waiting for her to do the same. Questions could come later then, she supposed.

Maggie, attempting to mirror the boy, slid her right foot back about a foot or two and bent her knees slightly, still rather unsure. Gregor charged. He began with a downward swing to Maggie’s head. Maggie blocked with her own staff, finally taking a proper grip on the stick.

Gregor jumped back a little, then thrust his staff at the girl. Maggie panicked, let out a small yelp, and jumped to the side, just quickly enough to avoid being hit. Gregor took a step forward, recovered, and swung his staff at Maggie’s neck, all in one smooth motion. The redhead ducked and rolled to the side.

Maggie swung her staff at the back of Gregor’s forward leg, catching him right in the crook of the knee. The boy faltered, but caught himself before he fell and whirled to face the girl again. She was back on her feet, backing away slowly. 

Gregor swung down at her head again, and Maggie dodged, jabbing the brunette in the side. He winced, recovered, and faced her head on. Maggie tried to do a downward swing, just like he had done, but Gregor smacked the side of her staff with his own and knocked the stick safely aside.

Suddenly, Gregor maneuvered his staff around Maggie’s and she found it wrenched from her hands. It clattered against the side of the bar before falling to rest on the ground. Dont clapped gleefully.

“Again?” Gregor offered, not even breathing hard. He looked to be enjoying himself.

Maggie smiled. “Sure.”


	11. First Day, Time to Explore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie finally gets introduced to Charoth. After Ashe runs off to deal with the latest Markus and Kyr related disaster, the pair decide to go explore the island together, since Gregor can't be trusted alone with Charoth, and they come across the Fox King's mansion.

It was well into the afternoon before Gregor and Maggie decided to take a break from sparring. She’d finally had enough of losing. That, and the soreness helped encourage her. Dont had wandered away an hour or so ago, saying something about checking on something in her oven.

Maggie wiped the damp from her forehead. If nothing else, she had achieved a lot of sweat. “Ew,” she complained, accidentally getting a whiff of herself. “I reek.”

Gregor gave his own robe a sniff. “Yeah, me too. Let’s go wash off. There’s a river this way.”

Gregor led Maggie through the woods and to a little river. It was lined with bushes and wound through the trees like a snake. He left Maggie to herself and went to wash further downstream.

The water was chilly, but not unbearably so. She washed quickly and rubbed sweet-smelling flowers on her clothes to get rid of the sweat stench. 

When she returned to the bar, Thog was cooking something over a fire outside. Ashe was nearby, holding some small creature with black limbs and wearing a white mask that reminded her of a bird. 

“Maggie,” Ashe greeted her with a smile. “This is Charoth.”

Maggie waved a shy hand in greeting to the little creature. It responded by tilting its head and reaching out with its stick to poke her hand, cooing a little. Maggie giggled at the adorable creature.

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for his tricks too,” Gregor whined behind Maggie.

Maggie gave a start, before calming down. “What do you mean?”

“That thing’s a little hellbeast. We had to fight it, you know, because it was going around and killing people. I would have killed it if Ashe didn’t stop me.”

“He was sad that his dad died, Gregor. We didn’t have to kill him.”

“Whatever,” Gregor muttered. “I still say it’s a bad idea to keep hanging around a death god all the time, though.” The boy wandered away to sit at the single table that was sitting outside the bar (for whatever reason).

Maggie looked down at Charoth again. He did seem to have a powerful aura, more so than most other spiritfolk she’d met at least. It was easy to miss, however, given its diminutive form.

Suddenly, an explosion rang across the island. Ashe started to swear under her breath, catching herself when she noticed Maggie flinch away.

“Sorry, Maggie. Here, can you hold Charoth for a while? I need to go find out what those two idiots are up to this time.”

Before she could speak a word either way, Maggie found the little spiritfolk in her arms and Ashe rushing towards where the explosion had come from. She looked down at the tiny creature, and it looked back at her, tilting its head in curiosity. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Gregor glaring at the creature, though he made no further arguments against being around it.

“Um… Would you like to go exploring with me?” Maggie asked Charoth. The tiny creature cooed and nodded, making Maggie smile again. “Alright, then, let’s go!”

“Aren’t you going to eat lunch first?” Gregor asked. “You shouldn’t go running around on an empty stomach.”

That gave Maggie pause. She’d spent so long without lunch, she’d almost forgotten it was a meal. The redhead went to join the brunette at the table, holding the little death god in her lap as she was served soup and a hunk of bread. She let Charoth nibble on the bread while she enjoyed her soup; a seasonal vegetable medley with barley. Gregor was already asking for seconds by the time Maggie finished eating.

“Um, where should I wash these?” She asked, holding her dishes in one hand and Charoth with the other.

Thog spared a glance towards Maggie before returning his attention to the soup still over the fire. “Just leave ‘em here and I’ll get to them. Go… wander around or whatever it is you do in your free time.”

Maggie did as she was told and wandered off to explore the rest of the island. Charoth, at one point, crawled onto her back and was sitting quite comfortably in the hood of her cloak, peeking over her shoulder. 

They wandered, and wandered, and wandered some more, finding nothing of particular note until they reached a large clearing that appeared to be a path. It branched off in several directions and Maggie picked one at random to follow.

After several more minutes of walking, she came upon a large manor that had clearly been empty for some time. Maggie walked up to the building, reverently running a hand over the material of the walls. Thoughts of grand parties once held here ran through her mind as she wandered the hallways and peered into the rooms. 

One large room had a hole in the roof that let sunlight filter down to the floor, and the redhead couldn’t help but twirl around and stir up motes of dust like thousands of tiny fireflies. She imagined dances here, couples swaying in time to ethereal music and someone singing in a language long forgotten.

Maggie and Charoth wandered around the manor for some time, hopping over rotted sections of flooring and climbing up half-disintegrated stairways, crawling under debris and peering into dark corners. 

They found interesting things sometimes, like opulent rugs, stained and dusty with age, or a tree growing into one of the walls and vines and ferns reaching in from another hole in the roof. Maggie tried to climb them at one point, but their roots were too weak to support her weight and she decided it was better to leave them be.

It took nearly as long for the girl to find her way back out, though the tiny spirit was rather helpful by pointing his stick toward the correct path for her, or pointing out dangers she’d forgotten about or missed. The sun was sinking below the horizon when she finally made it back to the entrance. There was smoke drifting over the trees in one direction. Maggie decided that was probably where the bar was, so she followed it.

It was fully dark by the time Maggie and Charoth arrived back at the bar. Frogs were chirruping to each other and light was streaming through the bar’s windows.

“Um, we’re back,” Maggie announced quietly as she pushed open the front door. 

“There you are,” Ashe sighed in relief, looking like she’d been worried. “I was about to grab everyone to help look for you.”

“We thought you got lost,” Gregor added from where he sat at one of the tables.

The redhead shrugged. “I was just wandering. I would’ve found my way back eventually. You guys didn’t have to worry about me… or, I guess you were worried more about Charoth, huh.” She looked sheepish and lifted the tiny spirit out of her hood and over her head to hand to Ashe. “He’s very good at remembering directions.”

“We weren’t…” Ashe shook her head and sighed. “Thog says I need to ‘train’ you. Come on, I’ll show you where everything is behind the bar.”


End file.
